Tomomi Jōmyaku [Working]

Another festival. Another day that both excited and demotivated Tomomi. This time was especially an unpleasant time, as not only was it time for his job, but as the sun itself had set, the party crowds were out and about. The expression that the “city never sleeps at night” was certainly a true one, although if anyone had asked Tomomi, this was not a good thing. If anything, he desperately wished the city would take a nap. He’d only just finished his day at school after all, so dealing with the messes left behind by drunkards was not his ideal description of a good time. So, still in his school uniform, the boy took his equipment for the deadly task of the evening – a mask for hygiene, a pair of latex gloves, a picker, and a rubbish bag.

On this particular day, his target as it were, was the Tokyo strip. It was ironic in a way, that the place that most reminded him of his old home was the most grief inducing of his job. Or perhaps, it was fitting. Then again, he’d lived in Endymion so long now that the idea of Tokyo as his home was bizarre to him. Not that any of that reminiscing would get the job done of picking up litter any sooner. With a physical shake of his head as if to stop himself from thinking about it, Tomomi got to work, setting off at a brisk pace down the street towards where he tended to start when it came to this particular route, so as to work along one side, and then work his way back along the other. So, for this part of the strip, it’d probably take him the rest of the evening, and would sure as hell wipe him out afterwards, but, better to get it done, get paid, and get a good night’s sleep right?

And so with his menial task ahead of him, the boy began, assorted types of litter being picked up by his pole as he used the clamp on the end to carefully pick up each individual piece and meticulously insert it into the half open bag, which grew ever easier to hold open the more that was put within. Indeed, before he’d even finished the first stretch of his route, the bag was filled, with empty take away boxes, broken bottles, and even an old, torn to pieces shoe. Still, if nothing else, the things he saw as he picked up litter always told a story. Still, the stories weren’t what he was paid to focus on. Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he tied up the bag he had with him, before carrying it for a roughly 30 minute walk to the nearest drop off point for litter, before, wiping the sweat from his brow, he returned to the position he was prior, opening up a new bag, and resuming with the same lack of enthusiasm as he had before.

As he got to the end of that stretch, the boy paused, taking a moment to stop and look around him with seemingly distant eyes. Giant dragons that waved and bounded up and above dancers, musicians, and a variety of things that seemed at first authentic. But, Tomomi stopped trying to reconnect with Tokyo culture a while ago when it came to these events. The taste of the food was never the same as his father’s, and the sentimentalism of the cultural traditions felt wrong, that to find home so far from home would only make the separation wounds re-open.

Sealing up and disposing of the second bag, the boy opened the third and began his trek back down, sneaking through the parade from one side of the road to the other in order to continue his job as effective as possible, the mask for hygiene only making his job the more tiring with its restrictive nature over his nose and mouth. If it weren’t for it being night time, he would have worked without it, but safety was more important than ease, at least in Tomomi’s mind. More broken bottles. More empty containers. And down one particular alley, a bundle of… Well, that was something the boy hadn’t seen for a while, and was certainly something he would try to purge from his memory as he swiftly moved on. No amount of eye drops would be enough to cleanse what this torturous job led him to see.

He kept going however, intent on getting it done, getting paid, going home, and having a long shower to wash away the stench of litter, and the strain of doing such a job. More litter. His eyes occasionally drifted to the celebrations and festival activities, the decorations, the lights. Yet every time, they would drift back to the ground, looking around with disinterest for the next entrant to his collection of junk that would soon be going in a tip of some description, at least if he had to guess. That part wasn’t his job, something he was grateful for if nothing else. Still, he felt sorry for whatever poor saps had to deal with it en masse. That being said, could it truly be much worse than what he had to deal with on the job?

Sometimes he wondered if the pay was even enough for this.

Sighing and resigning himself, the boy just let time drag on as he finished up his job, gasping in exasperation as he lugged the final bag to the drop off point, pulling his mask down as he let out a sharp exhale. Yet, as he did, something caught his eye. Something weird. Out of his peripheral vision, something seemed off.

But that didn’t matter. His job was done after all, so, with a gleeful stretch, he packed up the rest of his stuff, carrying it with him before storing it back at his place of residence. Now was the time for a shower, to wash away the problems that always, always, always came with that job. Perhaps litter collection was not the best choice in occupation the young boy could have made, although it was a bit late now to be regretting the choice.

3000 VC earned for writing 1000+ words.

+10% for being grammatically sound.

+10% for being interesting to read.

Final count: 3600 VC earned.